Distorted Mirror
by xXCarlaLouiseXx
Summary: Some scary stories have been told for a reason...


**A/N: I don't know what's wrong with me lately, I just keep on pumping out horror stories lol. It is fun to write though. Yeah, so this is my second one and it actually will have a pretty complicated plot, well, more complicated than my other one, which is basically 'if you love something too much it's going to kill you'. **

**And this one actually has a specific villain: 'The porcelain girl' - although to me it just sounds like English slang for a toilet lol (it was the best I could come up with).**

**I hope this is ok, I'm still not too sure about my horror writing abilities.**

**I do not own South Park.**

"A decade ago, in this very town, there lived a girl by the name of Alice. Her beauty far surpassed that of us lower mortals and due to her skins soft, declicate and pale qualities she soon became known by another name. She was the porcelain girl, with skin like snow, waist lenght hair, which cascade in rich waves like golden silk and eyes a warm, choclate brown. She could have any boy she wanted, which was a fact she knew all too well. She was rich, popular and had the most stunning men falling at her feet.

However her biggest problem was that she was shallow and her boyfriends caught onto this fact soon after they began to date her. After a short while her vain nature would lead the men of her choosing to persue other girls. Although she acted like she didn't care, it was extremely unsettling for her and created a deep paranoia within her. She hid her insecurities and jealousies well under a dazzlingly white smile and continued to break hearts with her beauty.

Then one day she met her match in the form of a boy with hair as black as midnight and eyes like stormclouds. His name was Issac and he instantly captured the porcelain girl's heart. However Alice was now a mess of emotions and was slowly coming apart at the seams, she panicked the second her dream guy began to pull away. In her mind no one else even deserved to gaze upon his stunning good looks, they simply weren't pretty enough. So it was the final straw for Alice when she caught the loving glances between Issac and her best friend.

That night, the porcelain girl concocted a malicious plan, if she couldn't have her dream guy, no one could.

Then the porcelain girl, with skin like snow, stole her mother's favourite kitchen knife before stalking through the night like a lioness ready to pounce. She skillfully climbed the drainpipes of her victims houses, slipping in through the window with an eerie gracefullness. She loomed over her victims slumbering bodies whispering their names though the silence of sleep. They woke with a start, but the girl was not fazed. She saw their eyes widen with fear, but they didn't have a chance to scream before she forced the blade through their hearts, hurting them in the very same place they hurt her.

By the time she got home Alice was full of regret, with nothing to do but look in the mirror at the monster she had become, sure she was pretty, but it was only skin deep. Before she could stop she had scissors clutched in her delicate, perfectly manicured hand. "I'm not pretty enough," she whispered before slicing into a chunk of her golden hair, it drifted to the floor like a fragile snowflake and she beamed a satisfactory smile. Her appearance was the only aspect she had control over, it was a realisation that cost the girl a lot more than her perfect silky locks.

"Not pretty enough," she repeated, cutting away a second chunk of hair. She soon got lost in her actions chanting "Not pretty enough, not pretty enough, not pretty enough," as each cluster of gold fell from her head. It wasn't enough and she soon became bored, she needed to feel it, to feel pain caused by herself, not some idiotic boy. Putting the scissors back down, she picked up the knife, staring at the blood of it's previous victims and smiling as it caught the light of the moon.

She was found the next day by her unlucky parents, her hair was all gone, her eyes were now dull and her fingers were covered in thick red liquid. It was the same red liquid that soaked through her shirt around her skinny stomach, the same read liquid that had been used to spell out the words 'Not pretty enough' on her bedroom wall.

So let this tale be a warning to all those who feel that their beauty will be a ticket to an easy life, because it's far from easy when your beauty is only skin deep."

The class all clapped half heartedly at the end of the tragic tale, Bebe stephens took a small courtsey as a blush painted her cheeks. "Thankyou Bebe," the english teacher smiled. "That truly was a chilling tale." She then turned to the rest of the class "So are there any questions, remember you guys are also being graded for listening skills, since this is a speaking and listening exam after all."

Kenny McCormick raised his hand and the teacher let out a sigh "Kenny, if you're just going to ask about the main character's chest size again then-"

"I promise this has something to do with the story," the blonde teen interrupted.

"Very well then, you may ask your question," the teacher sighed.

Kenny chose his words carefully before speaking, his face more serious than usual "How do you know that story Bebe?"

The girl fidgeted for a few seconds, slightly taken aback by the fact that this was a genuine, serious question from someone who hardly ever takes things seriously. "I... uh... my mom... she used to tell me it before bed when I was little."

"Really?" Stan asked. "That's kind of messed up Bebe. I mean, it's not exactly goldy locks and the three bears."

"It's a tradition, my mom said it was passed down through my family over generations," Bebe answered, her blush returning with a vengance. " Why did you want to know where I heard it Kenny? Are you familiar with it?"

"Oh yeah," Kenny answered, his features set in a thoughtfull trance. "I'm familiar with it alright."

The two blonde's locked eye contact for a few minutes, chocolate brown meeting ocean blue. The look in Kenny's ocean coloured orbs instantly sent shivers down her spine, it was a look that said 'you don't know what you're messing with'. This didn't last long though because the lunch bell peirced through the silence. Bebe took this as a chance to make a swift exit.

She darted into the girl's bathroom, running towards the sinks and dipping her pefectly manecured hands under the cold tap before splashing the icy water over her face. Her eyes slowly met the mirror as she wiped her face on the thick, red sleeve of her sweater. "It's just a scary story," she mumbled to herself, 'but then what was all that about?' her brain added. The girl had often wondered if the story had more significance than just a bedtime tradition, but the english assignment had been to tell a scary story and this was one that had been etched into the girl's memory, so she just brushed aside any bad feelings she got from hearing it and concentrated on getting that easy A she needed.

"Hey Bebe!" a cheerfull voice greeted, cutting through her thoughts.

She was soon joined by an extremely tired looking Lola "Hi Lola," Bebe replied. "Are you ok? You look half dead," she giggled, but it soon faded when she went over the way she'd phrased that sentence.

Lola smiled weakly "Yeah, I just haven't been sleeping well lately. You know? It's funny... that story you told. I had one of those stupid spam emails with that exact same story on it the other day."

"Really?" Bebe questioned, starting to feel a little nauseous at the turn in events this day was taking.

"Yeah, it was just one of those pathetic 'if you don't forward this to ten people you'll die in the next few days' messages," Lola sighed as she checked out her make up.

"Yeah," Bebe chuckled half-heartedly. "Pathetic."

There was a long silence before Bebe noticed the badly bandaged finger on Lola's right hand "Lola, what's that?" the blonde asked, pointing at the white material.

"Oh that?" Lola replied as she switched her gaze from her reflection to her hand. "I don't know, I just woke up this morning and my fingernail was gone, like I snagged it on something in my sleep." By now the blush had fully drained from Bebe's face, along with the rest of the colour. "It stung like a bitch at first, but I took some painkillers so it's alright now." Bebe felt weirdly on edge, a deep sinking feeling in her gut telling her that something was wrong, but her brain kept repeating 'it's just a story'.

The only thing that broke her anxious trance was a mumble of "You look like her y'know," from Lola before she started to make her way out of the bathroom.

"Huh?" Bebe asked, causing Lola to stop and turn in the doorway.

"I said you look like her," Lola stated. "The girl from that story?... the porcelain girl is it?" Bebe nodded in response. "Well, you look like her," Lola repeated before leaving Bebe alone in the bathroom once more.

When she met her reflection again her hands were shaking unexplainably. "Eyes a warm, chocolate brown," her brain repeated the words as her gaze met the warm, brown orbs in the reflection. Her hand came up to nervously twiddle a strand of shiny, blonde hair, causing her to gasp as she remembered another line of the story "Waist lenght hair, which cascade in rich waves like golden silk." She backed up a bit bringing her trembling fingers across to rest on her pale cheek "Skin like snow," she whispered the final part of the description, backing up more as the words spun around in her head.

"IT'S JUST A SCARY STORY!" she yelled at her reflection, only to freeze in terror moments later when the girl in the mirror smirked at her.

"Keep telling yourself that Bebe Stephens," the reflection purred. "But it doesn't make it true."

With that Bebe hauled herself out into the hallway, shaking violently and trying desperately not to scream.


End file.
